The blog and contents of the entire greeklish.org site represent the personal views of the site's authors. The views expressed on these pages are the views of the authors alone and are not the views of our employers or of any organizations with which we are affiliated.
Copyrighted quotes and images obtained from third party web sites are used under the terms of Fair Use. Some materials used by greeklish.org are in the public domain.
Family photos are intended for viewing on this web site and should not be reproduced or used elsewhere without the permission of the owners and operators of greeklish.org.
I think the downward spiral started around 2:00 PM on December 21, 2010. The details aren’t terribly important and everyone who knows me well is already familiar with the agonizing step-by-step minutiae of it all. For the sake of brevity, I’ll simply say that our 5 year-old iMac suffered some sort of catastrophic freak-out which rendered the hard drive inoperable…and – according to the place that serviced the machine – completely unsalvageable.
By Christmas Eve, I had the computer back, this time with a nearly empty 500 GB hard drive and an operating system that is a few years old. All of my third party applications, including hard-to-replace packages like PhotoShop and my OCR and HTML editing software are gone. Rebuilding the applications is tricky enough but then there’s the overall content of the old drive – photos, home movies, documents, songs, compositions, records…the list goes on and on – that’s one of the biggest blows from this whole affair. I should have learned my lesson years ago when I had abig scare with my OS upgradeand I did start backing up content from that point forward. But my backups just weren’t done regularly enough to save everything. Or even half of everything, for that matter.
Now, adding insult to injury, I’ve recently been notified by the folks who run the server for greeklish.org that they will shut the server down for good in the near future. Maybe even the very near future. They're running blogware that hasn't been updated in about two years. Someone from the company told me today that I am one of a handful of people still using it. Moreover, the tech support guy advised that if the server was to crash or something like that, they have no idea how, when or if they would try to restart it. So the website is running on outdated software and an old, unmaintained server.
Exactly when the shutdown will occur is unclear, but it will happen. So it’s final: greeklish.org – my home on the web since 2005 – is slated for imminent extinction. I had a feeling this would happen when the company that originally sold me the domain split its holdings in 2008 or so. I have issues with the way things were handled back then and I have a few resentments about how things have gone down recently. But I really don’t have time to waste grinding axes. Onward… It’s been a good run and it’s almost always been fun. We’ve used this space to share big and exciting news and a sad story or two. Overall, though, life continues to be overwhelmingly good. Losing some files and having to shift around content is an inconvenience that I certainly could do with out but then again, if this is the worst thing that happens to me today, tomorrow or the next day, I think I’m doing just fine. In the near future, I’ll carve out a new spot on the web and move some of the best content from greeklish.org over there along with the completeZoya Kosmodemyanskaya Archiveas well as some new and improved features and sections. It’ll be good. Really.
As a long-time mixtape enthusiast, I've always wanted to create a "soundtrack to my life" mix. Every time I've started down that path thus far, I run into a difficult time consolidating everything down to one 80-minute CD. Even a two-disc set -- which would likely run around 40 tracks or so -- just doesn't seem big enough to include all of the songs that are important to me in various and sundry ways. In the end, I decided that a big undertaking such as this needs to be done correctly, with proper attention to detail and a good mix of important tunes, obscure tracks and special features.
What I've decided, then, is to break things up into segments. For the first mix, I'm covering 1973 to 1980. This spans most of my time in eastern Kentucky. It's an eclectic collection, for sure. No heavy metal or punk music here, but there are a few country music songs, novelty tunes and a bit of Barry Manilow, too.
Sometimes, it's hard to say what exactly leads us in one direction or another, with respect to taste in music, politics, beliefs, and life in general. By the time I get to choosing tracks by Quiet Riot, Kiss and Venom for the later discs, it'll be a long and winding road, indeed.
The "cover art" for this mix CD features a snapshot from our 2007 visit to Kentucky and West Virginia. It's the view from I-64 on the way into Huntington.
Life In Music, 1973-1980
1. The Death of Elvis Presley, as reported by David Brinkley (August 16, 1977) The news of Elvis Presley's death is not only one of my earliest memories regarding music; it's one of the first things I remember at all. The news broke on August 16, 1977 and I was four years old at the time. I distinctly recall watching television with my brother and sister when a news bulletin interrupted our show. I had no idea who Elvis was and I went out to the kitchen where my folks were sitting and asked them. For weeks, I'd mimic the news bulletin, saying something like, "We interrupt this program to bring you this high-buckled news report. Elvis Presley is dead. We don't know why, but he's dead, dead, dead!" It's still kind of funny to me.
2. "Gotta Get to Your House" by David Seville (Original release: 1957) We had an old set of 45's that we'd listen to over and over again and this one by Alvin and the Chipmunks creator David Seville was a favorite. I remember listening to this with them one day and they had to explain to me why it was so funny. For the mix CD, I recorded this from our original 45. These days, our girls are fans of the Chipmunks and they think this song is hilarious.
3. "
David Seville
I Love" by Tom T. Hall (Original release: 1973) My folks had Tom T. Hall's Greatest Hits, Volume 2 on LP and I remember listening to cuts like "I Love" and I Like Beer" while we ate dinner.
4. "Annie's Song" by John Denver (Original release: 1974) My sister had this song on a 45. I was convinced that this song was actually about her and I was kind of disappointed when my parents told me that it was just a coincidence that my sister had the same name as John Denver's wife, Annie.
5. "Superstition" by Stevie Wonder (Original release: 1972) I wasn't even born when Stevie Wonder performed "Superstition" on Sesame Street, but the episode was still played regularly when I was 5 or 6 years old. PBS had some great stuff back then, including The Electric Company, Zoom and -- of course -- Mister Rogers' Neighborhood.
6. "The Gambler" by Kenny Rogers (Original release: 1978) "The Gambler" was absolutely huge when I was a kid. My folks bought Kenny Rogers: Greatest Hits for me on LP and I used to listen to the whole album, start to finish. One time, I asked my mom to explain the lyric, "The best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep" and told me it meant that no suffering is involved. The Gambler gets this kind of merciful ending when he "breaks even" towards the end of the song. It seems like morbid fare for a six year-old kid, but it beats the hell out of the crap that Disney is feeding to kids nowadays. My other favorites from that LP were "Coward of the County" (in which the main character's girlfriend is apparently raped by three brothers) and "The Long Arm of the Law" (where the protagonist knocks up his girlfriend and then has to hide from her father who is a crooked-ass judge). It wasn't until many years later that I fully understood the adult themes of these songs.
7. "The Long and Winding Road" by The Beatles (Original release: 1970) Someone recorded this on a tape that we had laying around the house and the cassette ended up in the room that my brother and I shared. We recorded all kinds of other shenanigans on the tape, and whenever I'd go back and listen to our crazy escapades, I'd listen to this song as well. I had no idea it was The Beatles until I was a good deal older. Also on the tape was the original version of Elmo & Patsy's "Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer," which was far better than the re-make they did some years later.
8. "He is Your Brother" by ABBA (Original release: 1972) 9. "California Dreamin'" by The Seekers (Original release: 1966) My dad had Greatest Hits of Abba (volumes 1 and 2) on LP as well as a couple albums by The Seekers, Georgy Girl and Live at the Talk of the Town. The cover of ABBA: Greatest Hits featured a funny scene that I didn't quite understand when I was little. I still love the Seekers and I prefer their version of "California Dreamin'" to the original.
10. "MacArthur Park" by Maynard Ferguson (Original release: 1969) When my brother started playing the trumpet, someone recommended he listen to stuff by Maynard Ferguson and Chuck Mangione to get an idea of how the better contemporary players sounded. My folks got him the Mangione album Fun and Games and a few LPs by Ferguson, including the 1980 compilation, The Best of Maynard Ferguson. The Mangione album was nice, but Ferguson had some really unusual material, including interpretations of themes from Rocky, Battlestar Galactica and Star Trek. Ferguson's cover of "MacArthur Park" is a tremendous jam that runs almost ten minutes. This album was in heavy rotation at our house in Russell.
11. "Pilot of the Airwaves" by Charlie Dore (Original release: 1980) 12. "Any Way You Want It" by Journey (Original release: 1980) I got the K-Tel album Power Play for Christmas 1980 and was the first Rock LP I ever owned. Both "Pilot of the Airwaves" and "Any Way You Want it" were on there, but I originally wanted this record because it had "Call me" by Blondie on it (...and yeah, that song was totally about prostitution, too). In third grade, I had a teacher who was really fixated on backwards masking and one afternoon, I got the album out and tried to play it backwards. For a while, I was convinced that "Pilot of the Airwaves" contained backwards messages but it never made sense to me why any musician would choose such a bizarre, nonsensical method to communicate with listeners.
13. "You're Never Goin' to Tampa With Me" by Ray Stevens (Original release: 1980) My brother and sister had the 45 of "Shriner's Convention" by Ray Stevens and as I recall, my whole family thought the song was hilarious but I get most of the jokes. One day while I was alone, I turned the record over and listened to the long-overlooked B-side, "You're Never Goin' to Tampa With Me." I can't say that this song made much sense to me at the time, either, but I actually became really fond of it. It is an incredibly weird song. Recorded form our old 45.
14. "Flash's Theme" by Queen (Original release: 1980) My dad took me to see Flash Gordon in 1980 and I thought it was the best movie ever. After we got home that night, I grabbed a big stack of paper and crayons so I could document everything I had seen. Shortly thereafter, I got "Flash's Theme" (b/w "Football Fight") on 45 and played it all the time. I was in second grade at the time and I tried to write out the lyrics one day while I was at school. In hindsight, I must admit that my interpretations were waaay off.
15. "It's Still Rock and Roll to Me" by Billy Joel (Original release: 1980) I have the strangest recollection of watching this video with my entire family while we lived in Russell. Music videos were pretty new back then and we didn't have cable, so it must've been a night that Solid Gold was on TV. When he got to the lyric, "Don't waste your money on a new set of speakers/You get more mileage from a cheap pair of sneakers," my mom felt the need to point that specific lyric out to my brother and she asked if he understood it. To this day, every time I hear this song, that particular memory comes to mind.
16. "Like the Wind" by Christopher Cross (Original release: 1980) I don't love this song at all. Still, I have good memories of riding bikes in the garage with my sister while this was on the radio. Michael McDonald took a break from ruining the Doobie Brothers to sing back-up vocals on this song.
17. "(Just Like) Starting Over" by John Lennon (Original release: 1980) Like the death of Elvis Presley, John Lennon's murder was big news and I remember that event well. This song was released several weeks before his passing and it received a lot of airplay soon thereafter. Years later, this would become a "sing along song" for T. and me when we were dating.
18. "Mork's Mixed Emotions" from Mork & Mindy (Original release: 1979) Setting her tape recorder up next to our television, my mom recorded the audio from this episode of Mork & Mindy. Before we had a VCR or Nick at Night to watch old TV shows, I'd just play this tape again and again for entertainment on long, boring afternoons. The great thing about that particular recording is that it captured us all laughing at the jokes in the show. Unfortunately, I lost the tape a long time ago. These excerpts are from the DVD of the show's first season.
19. "
Retik, Ruler of the
Moon
A Very Strange Medley (V.S.M.)" by Barry Manilow (Original release: 1977) Much like the old ABBA and Seekers records, Barry Manilow Live was an early favorite. I especially loved Manilow's medley of old commercials but I also enjoyed his "Jump Shout Boogie Medley." Even after I discovered metal and punk, this record remained a guilty pleasure of mine. No sense in hiding my appreciation for Manilow any more though; talent is talent and a good song is a good song.
20. "They're Coming to Take Me Away, Ha-Haaa!" by Napoleon XIV (Original release: 1966) At some point, one of the local radio stations started playing this song on their morning show. I used to picture the singer as Retik, Ruler of the Moon (one of the bad guys from the old Commando Cody series, Radar Men from the Moon).
Would you believe that a simple item on our dinner menu could lead to an impromptu history lesson about a relatively obscure phase of China's Cultural Revolution? If you spent just a little time hanging around our house, well folks, you'd buy it.
A few weeks ago, Thomai prepared some fresh mangoes for dessert. She's always doing her best to make sure that the girls and I get as much healthy stuff as possible. On the night in question, I sat there at the table with the girls watching Thomai peel and cut the mangoes when a thought popped into my brain:
"Have I ever told you about China's 'Mango Worship' period?" I asked.
"Yes," Thomai groaned.
Then from across the table came the voice of our older daughter, K. "I haven't heard it!" she exclaimed. Our younger daughter Z followed up with a resounding, "Me neither!" Intelligent, inquisitive and enthusiastic; Yeah…those are my kids, for sure.
From that point on, I had the pleasure of recounting the story for our girls – now ages 10 and 6 – as we ate the mangoes together. I was working from memory only, so I started in the middle of the tale, explaining that Mao had sent a number of mangoes to factories and schools around China as a gesture of something or other. In turn the folks who received the mangoes, treated the fruits as venerated objects, preserving them and – in some cases – constructing intricately detailed replicas of the mangoes to commemorate the occasion on which they were received.
I was fortunate to have my BlackBerry nearby, so I used the web browser to visit Stefan Landsberger's outstanding online archive of Chinese Propaganda Posters to check my facts. I was happy to find a rather detailed summary of the entire "Mango Worship" period which allowed me to correct a few inaccuracies in my off-the-cuff version of the story. In addition to the narrative, a picture of one of the celebrated fruits is included on his "Chairman Mao's Mangoes" page. Additionally, Dr. Landsberger's page features a link to another site which has pictures of one of the handcrafted replica mangoes.
After listening to an updated version of the story (courtesy of the information from Dr. Landsberger's site), the girls gathered 'round to look at the pictures of the mangoes with me and I couldn't help feeling like they were just a little bit impressed with some of the stuff that their dad comes up with from time to time.
I wrote an earlier draft of this short piece a couple of years ago for someone else’s blog. This conversation really happened and the memory of it makes me smile to this day.
One might accurately say I've always been something of an "enthusiast" when it comes to bugs and spiders. If I see something flying or crawling by, I might easily put any current business on hold to see what kind of excitement and intrigue the insect world has to offer. Such was the case one evening as I was enjoying some time in the back yard with our girls. I can't remember what exactly we were doing but at some point I became distracted by the site of a large group of anthills.
As I crouched down to inspect the teeming insect metropolis, our younger daughter (who was four years old at the time) walked over and joined me for a look. For a minute or so, we watched in silence as the ants scurried here and there. Eventually, my daughter asked in her soft, inquisitive kid voice: “Daddy, are those good ants?”
I was at something of a loss for a few seconds but after thinking on it, I eventually replied, "Well, they’re not Disney ants." Yeah...That was simply the best I could do at that particular moment. As luck would have it, she was relatively happy with my answer.
International Women's Day, as described
byAlexandra Kollontai, began as “a day of international solidarity, and a day
for reviewing the strength and organization of proletarian women.” Established through the determination
of radical activist and organizerClara Zetkinand a resolution adopted at the
International Conference of Working Women the first IWD was marked in
1911. Today, IWD is
commemorated around the world as “a global day
celebrating the economic, political and social achievements of women past,
present and future.”
In recognition of
International Women’s Day 2010, here are some biographical sketches of some women I admire:
Nadezhda Krupskaya(1869 – 1939)Married to V.I. Lenin, Krupskaya was a very important
revolutionary in her own right, educating and supporting fellow Bolsheviks in
the years leading up to the Russian Revolution of 1917. Suffering through persecution and arrest under
the Tsar, Krupskaya endured the struggle and supported Lenin through the tumult
that would eventually bring the Soviets to power.Krupskaya was an archivist and librarian and did much work
in the establishment of the new Soviet library system following the
revolution.In 1933, she published
Reminiscences of Lenin, a biography of her husband which is often regarded as
one of the best assessments of his life and work. Further Reading:Nadezhda
Krupskaya Internet Archive
Madhubala (1933 – 1969) One
of the most popular actresses of Bollywood’s Golden Age, Madhubala performed in
over 70 films before her untimely death at the age of 36. Her most celebrated part was the lead
role in the epic film Mughal-e-Azam. At the time of her passing, she was
regarded as an icon throughout India and beyond. She remains one of India’s most beloved film
stars to this day.
Ida B. Wells-Barnett(1862 – 1931)Ida B. Wells-Barnett was a
journalist and activist who used her exceptional talents as a writer and a speaker to raise global
awareness
regarding crimes against African-Americans in the South during the
decades
immediately following the Civil War.She wrote extensively on the problem of lynching in the
United States,
beginning with two groundbreaking pamphlets Southern
Horrors: Lynch Law in All
Its Phases, and a A Red Record.She co-founded the NAACP
with W.E.B. DuBois and others
in 1909. Further Reading:Southern
Horrors: Lynch Law in All Its Phases(full text) by Ida
B. Wells-Barnett
Mother TsaiImmortalized
by Agnes Smedley in her article “No Sacrifice…No Victory,” Mother Tsai
was a
leader of women in the “south Yangtze valley” during China’s War of
Resistance
against Japan from 1937 – 1945.Well into her late 60’s, Mother Tsai worked in the fields with
her
daughters-in-law while her sons fought in the guerilla armies against
the
Japanese invaders.She was an
important member of the Women’s Association, delivering inspirational
political
speeches to to wounded soldiers as they convalesced in hospital wards.She mounted aggressive campaigns
against opium use and corruption in the region, declaring war on the
oppressive
conventions of sexism and exploitation.
Lili Brik (1891-1978)Intimately
involved at a number of levels with the Russia’s Futurist movement of
literature and art, Lili Brik was a close personal associate of Russia’s
celebrated poet Vladimir Mayakovsky.After Mayakovsky's death, Brik penned a personal appeal to Joseph Stalin in 1935 in which she advocated
for the widespread dissemination and popularization of Mayakovsky’s works.She wrote: “…I address myself to you
because I do not see any other means to realize the tremendous revolutionary
heritage of Mayakovsky.”The
appeal was met with the approval of Stalin who famously responded, “Comrade
Brik is right: Mayakovsky was and remains the most talented poet of our Soviet
epoch.Indifference to his memory
and words is a crime.” Her memory lives on in the works of Mayakovsky and the art of Alexander Rodchenko. Further Reading:I Love: The Story of Vladimir Mayakovsky and Lili Brik(Amazon listing)
It didn't take long for us to realize that we didn't want to be without a Boxer in the house. After just a few days without Domino, we decided that we wanted to go back to being a "two dog family" for everyone's sake, including that of our very grief-stricken Lhasanese, Stupsi. A few of our friends, including some fellow Boxer enthusiasts, encouraged us to "get back on the horse" as soon as we could and we took that advice to heart. We looked at a few older dogs in area shelters but we just weren't feeling the connection that we were hoping to find.
Late yesterday, I found a classified ad for a litter of 9 week-old Boxer pups. The seller was in South Charleston and she was very nice over the phone, even agreeing to hold one puppy in particular as we were very interested in him from the photo in the ad. Immediately after work, Thomai , the girls and I set out to visit South Charleston, braving the dropping temperatures, freezing rain and dark rural roads to reach the seller's home.
The lady was one of the most conscientious breeders I have ever met. She had folders prepared with documentation, medical histories and feeding instructions for each individual puppy. The parents of the litter were both present for us to meet and inspect. It was all very nice and reassuring and the fact that she was offering the pups at very "non-breeder" prices (so to speak) was even more encouraging.
In the end, we left with the very pup we had come to see. He is a handsome boy, indeed. He's a reverse-brindle Boxer with big paws and he's naturally curious but a little on the skittish side. The breeder described him as "stubborn and bull-headed but a bit of a sissy" (Those are her words, not mine). I have to admit that it will be quite funny to see our Stupsi -- a tiny little Tribble of a dog -- ultimately take her place as the dominant dog in the house, especially when this male pup grows into a full-size, muscle-bound 70+ pound brute.
We named our new guy "Dutch" (or "Dutchie") and the origin of his name is really something of a long story for another day. Stupsi has welcomed him to our family with cautious enthusiasm and we are all so excited to have Dutch with us. Of course, it's not the same as having our old girl Domino here with us, but it's a nice new beginning for everyone.
Thanks to everyone who shared words of support and encouragement.
Given the enormous human suffering brought on by the recent
disaster in Haiti, it doesn’t seem right to publicly dwell for too long on the
death of a family pet. But because
greeklish.org has been something of an "online diary" for us for such a long
time now, I wanted to mark the occasion with a few reflections on the recent
passing of our good friend Domino.
Thomai and I bought Domino as newlyweds in 1997.She was our second family pet after our
green iguana Oppie (named after J. Robert Oppenheimer) who passed away in 2002.We bought Domino from a farm in rural
Eaton and we named her after the Kiss song "Domino."I have always been proud to say that Domino’s name was
Thomai’s idea.
Domino was a huge part of our lives for 13 years.She welcomed our two daughters into the
family and she was always patient and always gentle with the kids.I think that there aren’t many dog
owners who can honestly and accurately say that their dogs never bared teeth,
growled or showed aggression in any form but this was absolutely the case with
our dog Domino.Whether it was all
those times when the girls inadvertently smacked her with toy golf clubs and
the like or it was those first few years when Thomai and I used Domino to test
out our developing “parental skills,” Domino was always understanding and
always forgiving.
When we brought Stupsi home a couple of years ago, Domino
was kind enough to welcome one more member to the family.As a rambunctious puppy, Stupsi was
awfully trying in her own right but it was great to see Domino acting as a
“mentor” of sorts to our newest four-legged addition.We lovingly called Domino our “Grand Dame” as we watched her
teach Stupsi the ropes.
She wasn't a show dog. She had a "point" on the top of her head. Her bottom front teeth looked like the salt from a big soft pretzel. Her nose was often dry and crusty. She drooled spit and sludge from her jowls and often left a trail of the stuff through the house. But Domino was made out of incredibly tough stuff.Her health problems were always minor
and we were often told by fellow boxer owners how fortunate we were to enjoy
such a long time with our beloved friend.We didn’t have to deal with a lengthy battle with cancer (boxers are
notoriously cancer prone), heart problems or hip issues.In the end, it was her 13 year-old liver
that gave out.He decline started
last Thursday and I already had a pretty good idea what we were facing by the
time I helped her into the van to go to the vet on Saturday.In addition to her lethargy and obvious
discomfort, the jaundice in her eyes signaled that she was in a bad way.
The doctor was very nice as he explained things, ending our difficult discussion
by saying that he thought that letting Domino go would be “fair.”Thomai and the girls arrived in time to
say a difficult goodbye and when they stepped out, I got a few minutes alone with
Domino.I sat on the floor with
her, wrapping my legs around her body and my arms around her neck.She rested her chin on my arm and
closed her eyes as I whispered in her ear.She had been virtually deaf for years but something about
the situation was comforting to her and for a few moments she dozed comfortably
as I spoke softly to her.The
doctor joined us and the end was fast and merciful.She fell asleep once more in my arms and I gently laid her
down for one final goodbye.
The whole situation was wonderfully materialistic in a
manner of speaking.There was no
talk of God or Heaven, no musings about religion and spirituality or the grand cosmic meanings of life and death.We were
straight with our girls about what happened and why and they are stronger surely
because of the experience and its lasting lessons.Even the doctor was very concrete in his description of how
Domino reacted in her final seconds, describing some involuntary movements as
“random electricity.”It was all consistent with how I view life and existence and thus
reaffirming and ultimately very comforting.
I sat down at the computer late Saturday afternoon and
opened up the web browser, landing on my default home page here at greeklish.org.Right there in front of me were the
words I typed just a few weeks ago:
Nothing ever truly goes away. Our favorite things,
places and people will last forever but in different shapes and forms.
It is a comfort to me that Domino will exist in our memories
and beyond for many, many years to come.Thomai and the girls struggle now and again and I have apologized many
times over the course of the last few days for all of the times my girls have had
to see me sob and cry.Stupsi is
having a hard time as well, spending hours laying near Domino’s favorite spots in
the house and periodically searching for her around the house as she softly
whimpers.
This is real life though, and there are many problems much
worse than this all around the world, every single day.We are surely fortunate that this is our
greatest of challenge at the moment just as we are fortunate to have enjoyed so
many years with such a dedicated friend.
We will always love our friend Domino.
"Suddenly... You were gone... from all the lives you
left your mark upon.” ★
Ontario, Canada is one of my favorite places in the world. We’ve visited the area a number of times over the years and every trip has yielded great memories. One of my favorite visits was our trip to Toronto in 2005. Z. was just over one year old and the four of us – with Z. in her stroller – came to know the city well, opting to travel from place to place mostly on foot and through the use of the city’s subway system. In our short time in Toronto, we came to appreciate the omnipresence of hospitality and diversity on the streets of the city.
While visiting Niagara Falls in 2008, I reflected a bit on the trip to Toronto as well as on all of our visits to the area from years past. I had been reading a lot of Allen Ginsberg’s work around this time and – although I’m not comparing my work to his – I can honestly say that I felt his influence as I sat at the desk in our hotel room one night. With that in mind, I took pen in hand and wrote about my appreciation for Canada in verse.
Our northern excursions have been on my mind again lately, especially because I now enjoy regular correspondence with a number of friends who live throughout Canada. Up to now, the only person with whom I’ve ever shared a single one of my poems is Thomaï. She always been kind to me, which is something I truly appreciate. However, I am certain that the support and encouragement of one’s spouse is not really the most accurate gauge as to the quality one's particular work. So, I thought that now might be as good a time as any to share this poem with everyone who might be interested in knowing something of my affection for Canada and its people.
Canada, I Love You
Canada, I love you for your Loonies and Toonies, and your healthcare for everyone, and how you told America to “suck it” over the wars. I love you for your Horseshoe Falls, for your legions of French-speakers, and all your diversity on the streets. For your Maple Leafs, and the mother of three who said, “Look at the fireworks, eh!” I love you for your “No tax on Maple Syrup!” and your QEW, and for the stand against WTO in Montréal. I love you for your cosmopolitan cities, with your street-corners full of congregations: men of faith, break-dancers and drummers, Hekmatists spreading the word, men holding hands on the subway, black folks, asians, “whitefolk” – melting together in a river of humanity. Canada, you are not the United States of America, and I love you for it.
23 July 2008; Niagara Falls, Ontario, Canada [Revised 31 July - 1 August 2009; Dayton, Ohio]
As I've noted before, one of my favorite things to do as a parent is to share interesting and unusual books with our girls at every possible opportunity. Sometimes, the results aren't terribly well received, like the time I read aloud from an old inductive logic book over dinner or the night I shared some passages from Marcuse's One Dimensional Man. Other times, the girls are genuinely interested in what I am reading and they ask me to share a bit with them. I have, of course, obliged on a number of occasions, sharing pieces from books like Chaim Potok's The Chosen and Richard Poe's Afrocentric historical study Black Spark, White Fire.
There was also the wonderful evening when I received a rare first printing of Voltairine de Cleyre's Selected Works in the mail and the girls sat by and watched closely as I carefully opened the book, showed them de Cleyre's portrait and read some of her poems for them. (To this day, Baby Z. says she will someday have a daughter named Voltairine. Really.) I must say that it's nice to help our girls to develop interests and knowledge that extends beyond the limitations of mass marketing and popular culture.
Last Friday afternoon, I was sitting on the swing in front of my in-laws' house enjoying a rare, gentle July breeze as I relished the end of the workweek. I took advantage of this down time to read some of Brecht's play Mother Courage and Her Children which I had started a week or so prior. My rather busy schedule had prevented me from spending more than a few minutes every few days with the book.
After a short time, the girls noticed that I was sitting outside and Baby Z. ran out to join me. She scrambled up into the swing next to me, grabbed a hold of my arm and laid her head on my chest. She looked down at the book and said, 'Read that book to me.” I had just finished the section in the book in which Mother Courage's son Swiss Cheese was executed, so I figured that the next few pages might be rather unremarkable.
So, I started reading to Z. from the beginning of Scene Four but about halfway down the page, I realized that I had indeed come upon some subject matter that wasn't entirely age-appropriate for my young, audience. This scene featured a young soldier who was furious with his captain and was looking to exact some revenge. I stopped reading as I scanned the remainder of the page to see what I had gotten myself into and I silently read the following:
YOUNG SOLDIER: Screw the Captain! Where is the son of a bitch? Swiping my reward, spending it on brandy for his whores, I'll rip his belly open!
AN OLDER SOLDIER (coming after him): Shut your hole, you'll wind up in the stocks.
YOUNG SOLDIER: Come out, you thief, I'll make lamb chops out of you! I was the only one in the squad who swam the river and he grabs my money, I can't even buy myself a beer. Come on out! And let me slice you up!
I wasn't entirely sure what to do at this point, as Baby Z. seemed fairly interested in the subject matter and I have to admit that it's awfully nice to have my little one cuddled up next to me, intent on sharing in what is so obviously rather interesting to me. So I substituted my own "revised” version of the passage and said something like this:
"Well, ummm…See, this young guy is mad at the Captain – really mad, see – and he wants to get the Captain really, really badly because the Captain took his money….or something. And he's really going to get him, I guess. And then this other guy comes along and tells him to be quiet, but the young guy won't because he's really mad. Yeah."
It was at this point that Baby Z. hopped down from the swing abruptly and said, "Okay…Can we do something else?” I asked her if she wanted to know what happened to Mother Courage and she said, rather matter-of-factly, "That book is boring.” Then she toddled off to the garage to get her tricycle so she could ride it in the driveway for a while. Ah well, it was nice for a moment, anyway.
I wondered if Brecht is really boring to a 5 year-old or if it was just came across as boring because I dumbed it down. Whatever the case, I always appreciate the candor of our girls and I figure that someday when they come back to these authors and books of their own accord, they might feel a small spark of recollection and ultimately end up with some greater appreciation for what we've tried to share with them along the way.
First, I must offer a point of clarification...As much as I’d like to write a thorough summary of one of the best lectures I have ever had the privilege to attend, I’m sure that I would not be able to present the subject matter with the depth and detail it most certainly deserves. Instead, the following article mainly discusses the personal significance of the evening, as it was a night filled with memorable moments that will profoundly influence me and my family for many years to come.
On February 23, 2009, I attended a lecture by Angela Y. Davis at my alma mater, Wright State University. The last event I attended at WSU was a lecture by Cornel West back in January 2006 and it was a tremendous experience. As wonderful as that event was, I must say that the opportunity to see Angela Davis speak was more than just a little exciting for me. I was literally jumping up and down when I first learned about the lecture several months ago and I anticipated the date with a great deal of enthusiasm.
At this point, I must note unequivocally that Angela Davis is a hero to me. For decades, she has remained at the forefront of struggles for oppressed and exploited people around the world. Her public victories and her personal sacrifices are well documented and her body of work is a significant contribution to the study and improvement of important issues including those of class consciousness as well as race and gender equality.
Some years ago, I purchased a vintage poster of Angela Davis from an estate liquidation sale on eBay. It was already framed and under glass and as I recall, the price for the poster — including shipping on the big, bulky item (from Texas, I think) — was relatively steep. But I was lucky to acquire it and I still remember the day that I put it up on the wall in our home library room. It’s pretty big and Angela’s portrait dominates the poster, accompanied by the bold title: “Victims of the World’s Greatest Conspiracy!” There are some other images and text around her picture, including portraits of Huey P. Newton and George Jackson as well as some verses from Claude McKay’s poem “If We Must Die.” I think the poster was printed by a San Francisco Bay area book store while Angela was in jail awaiting trial on a series of bogus charges (She was eventually acquitted of all charges in 1972). The poster is original (as opposed to a reproduction) and some nail holes, small tears and a few notes in pencil are visible to the attentive observer. To be honest, I really find the “wear and tear” to add quite a bit of historical and sentimental value to the poster.
I realize it might seem a little odd to embark on a tangent about a simple poster what is supposed to be an account of a speaking engagement, but there is something very important about this poster in the context of my experience in seeing Angela speak at WSU: This piece has been hanging on the wall in our library room ever since our older daughter K. was a toddler. Both K. and our younger daughter Z. have looked upon Angela’s portrait for years. They know her face and they know her name. Sure, it’s true that they are too young to really understand that much about Angela and what she stands for, but they know that she is important. And I don’t mean that they just know she is important to me. They know she is an important woman and some day, they will know her story. This is what made so significant that baby Z. accompanied me to the lecture at WSU. It was truly a remarkable opportunity for me as a father to share this experience with one of my daughters.
Thomai had hoped to attend the lecture with me, but she was scheduled to teach a Greek school class that night. Since K. is one of her star pupils, she was not able to attend the event either. Later that night (after Z. and I got home from the lecture), Thomai told me that K. had expressed some disappointment that she was not able to go to the lecture with us. I was, of course, glad that she did not skip Greek school, but it was also good to know that she would have attended the lecture with some enthusiasm had things worked out. T. offered to take Z. to school with her a number of times, but I was very happy at the prospect of having her accompany me to the event, so we packed a backpack full of coloring books, paper, stuffed animals and Goldfish crackers and we headed up the road to WSU.
We arrived at WSU pretty early for the event, getting there at around 6:00 PM even though it wasn’t scheduled to begin until 7:30 PM. Z. wasn’t really sure about where we were for a while because she kept referring to the WSU campus as “the mall.” She had taken a short nap on the way to WSU, so she was a little disoriented when we got out of the car. I eventually told her that we were at the same place that we go to for the annual comic book show and that seemed to register. I also told her we were there to hear Angela Davis speak and that seemed to bring about some faint realization that we were going to see someone important. I met up with a friends from work while we were waiting to for the lecture hall to open its doors. While we stood there talking, we heard that Angela was already in the building and that she was a guest lecturer for a class across the hall. Shortly after we learned this, I looked up to see Angela standing in the hallway just a couple of yards from us. It was a breathtaking moment to be in her presence for the first time. She had just stepped out of the classroom to chat with some people and I heard someone say that she would be running late for the lecture portion of the evening because she had to go back to her hotel to prepare for the evening. I was a little worried for Z.’s sake, because although she is a patient child, her attention span has some understandable limitations. After a short time, Angela left the area and we filed into the lecture. We snagged some third-row seats, which was pretty good considering that the first two rows were reserved for WSU students and faculty.
The speech started a little later than scheduled, but we took advantage of the opportunity to get to know some people sitting around us. Z. read some books with my friend from work while I chatted with another friend who sat in back of us. I also talked with a lady who is on the Board of Directors for the National Underground Railroad Freedom Center in Cincinnati and a gentleman who is a professor of African-American studies at WSU.
Angela entered the room quietly, but everyone who noticed her perked up as we knew things were about to get moving. After some brief comments by staff from the Women’s Center and an introduction from WSU President David R. Hopkins, Angela took the stage and began her lecture.
The main portain of Angela’s lecture was around 45 minutes or so. She started by discussing the history of International Women’s Day, making note of the fact that the original purpose of the occasion was to honor the militant strikes of women garment workers in New York. It was especially noteworthy that Angela stressed the point that socialists were among the early champions of the women's movement, as this is a fact that many mainstream academics and authors might typically avoid for political reasons. She then discussed the history of Black History Month, sharing some of the lesser known facts and anniversaries associated with the civil rights movement in America. Tying the two aforementioned topics together, Angela spoke in some detail regarding the collective role of women of color in the struggle for civil rights, placing particular emphasis on the “anonymous” women of the movement throughout its most pivotal points. She recommended the book The Montgomery Boycott and the Women Who Started It by Jo Ann Robinson as further reading on the subject.
Some of the more intriguing comments of the evening came during Angela’s discussion on the election of Barack Obama. Angela touched upon the importance of race as both a “third rail” and a decisive factor in the ultimate outcome of the election. She expressed cautious optimism for the enormous potential of Obama as both a political leader and as a catalyst for geopolitical change, associating Obama’s vision with the spirit of 60’s radicalism. But she also was very candid in the need for continued scrutiny and dissent, noting that Obama is now the leader of the greatest imperial power on Earth. She declared in no uncertain terms that Barack Obama is not a “messiah” and that we should expect to disagree with his ideas and decisions throughout his time in office. These concepts were very well received by the audience, who focused intently upon Angela’s every word.
Z. was an incredible sport about everything as the night went on. There was a tense moment early on in which she quietly confessed to being “a little bored” and she got a little tearful when she started missing Thomai and K. But after a minute or so flipping through the pictures on our digital camera, she was in good shape again. She played quietly with some figurines and her favorite Madball, “Dust Brain.” At one point, she started digging through her backpack and flipping through her coloring books. I asked what she was looking for and she said she wanted paper to draw, so I got several blank sheets and a ball-point pen out for her. She doodled a bit on a few pages and I went back to listening to the lecture. After a few minutes, I looked down at the page she was working on and I noticed she had drawn what appeared to be a woman standing near a large rectangle. I looked up at the stage and saw Angela standing behind a podium and I looked back down at Z.’s picture. I tapped at the drawing and said, “Is that Angela Davis on the stage?” and she said, “Yes.” I watched a bit as she added in the stage, the lighting rig above it, and the plant that was next to the podium. She drew intently for a while and then she got some crayons and started coloring in the scenery. When she was finished, she showed me the picture and I said, “Do you want to give that to Angela?” She said that she did and then — because she was obviously pretty tired by that point — added, “Maybe we can just mail it to her.” I laughed and told her that was something to consider, but that we might try and give it to her personally before the end of the evening.
Later in the lecture, Angela talked about the problems of American prisons and the movement to abolish the current prison system. Her work in this particular area actually predates her involvement with the Soledad Brothers, although the Soledad case ultimately proved to be a pivotal moment in her development as an activist. Her recent work on the abolition of prisons includes the 1997 lecture entitled The Prison Industrial Complex and Angela noted during the WSU presentation that she is also at work on a forthcoming volume regarding the American penal system.
After concluding her lecture, Angela opened a question and answer session, discussing a broad range of issues regarding Marxism and socialism, feminism, and gender issues. One particularly interesting segment involved a University of Louisville student who asked Angela to speak a bit on the late Anne Braden. Angela obliged, sharing some stories about Braden’s fight against segregation Louisville during the 1950’s. Angela also talked a bit about her relationship with Braden and she encouraged the audience to read more about Braden and her husband, Carl Braden. Angela engaged the crowd as a consummate public speaker, yet spoke in very plain terms and enjoyed the opportunity to interact directly with admirers and students of varied backgrounds and interests.
Around 9:40 PM, Thomai called to see how Z. and I were doing. Both Thomai and I were a little concerned about keeping Z. out so late but I also struggled with the idea of leaving without getting a chance to meet Angela at the book signing following the lecture. I decided that Z. and I should go ahead and get a spot in the book signing line ahead of time, so Z. and I packed up and moved back out to the hall. The line was not too long, but I was worried that things might drag if Angela decided to take a long break after wrapping things up in the lecture hall. Fortunately, just a few minutes after we secured our spot in line, Angela came out and went right to work signing books and posing for pictures.
Z. still had the picture she drew and she still had a lot of energy at this point, although I was not sure if she was more excited about giving Angela the picture or about the fact that I agreed to get her some chicken nuggets for the ride home. I talked with a few folks in line while we waited and a young lady in back of us agreed to take our picture with Angela once we made it to the front of the line.
After a brief wait, it was finally our chance to meet Angela. I was almost too nervous to talk as I approached her. We shook hands and I introduced Z. to her. I told her that Z. had drawn a picture for her and that Z. wanted to give it to her. I also noted that Z. had done this on her own because I didn’t want to seem like some kind of strange, overzealous parent. Z. opened the picture (she had folded it into quarters) and Angela stooped down, placing her hands on her knees to get a closer look. I told Angela, “It’s a picture of you speaking on stage.” and she softly replied, “It sure is.” She talked briefly with Z., noting the details of the picture, including the plant next to the podium and a piece of a projection camera that Z. described as “that digital thing.” Angela accepted the gift from Z. and put it down on the table as I presented a book that I asked her to sign. The book was a 1984 International Publishers volume of work by Clara Zetkin that includes a foreword by Angela. Although I have several of books by Angela, this volume has been a favorite of mine for many years. She kind of chuckled when she saw the book, asking, “How long have you had this?” We talked for just a few seconds about some common interests and acquaintances, but my nervousness persisted and I didn’t get the chance to articulate some of the things I wanted share. I wanted to tell her some funny things, like how I read aloud to the girls from Marcuse’s One Dimensional Man when they are slow to finish their dinner. I wanted to tell her how I recommend her book Women, Race and Class to people whenever I get the chance. I had hoped to share a bit about my own activism and work in a variety of forums and media. But I knew time was fleeting and I couldn’t really gather the wherewithal to come across as anything less than a star-struck admirer.
I then asked if Z. and I could have a picture taken with her and she kindly agreed. Z. walked in front of Angela to pose for the picture and Angela looked down at her and said, “Do you want to come up here?” Then Angela Davis — legendary 60’s radical, former Black Panther, two-time candidate for Vice President on the CPUSA ticket and a worldwide icon of militant struggle — put her hands under Z.’s arms and hoisted her up to the table for the picture.
It was a simple gesture, really...But everyone around us seemed to be moved by it. The experience cast and indelible imprint on my mind as to the compassion and attention to detail which drives true revolutionaries in their efforts improve conditions for everyone regardless of the various minor differences that often divide us. The moment reminded me of one of my favorite quotes by Che Guevara in which he proclaims:
...the true revolutionary is guided by a great feeling of love. It is impossible to think of a genuine revolutionary lacking this quality.
Once the photograph was snapped, we said our goodbyes and the night came to an end. Although Z. is too young to grasp the significance of what she heard and experienced, we now have a wonderful picture to commemorate our evening with Angela Davis. Someday, when Z. is old enough to learn about Angela’s life and work, I’m sure she will appreciate the time we shared with Angela. It is my sincere hope that moments like this will encourage our children — the new generation and the future of social development and change — to make their mark on history as they work to make the world a better place.
As a long-time mixtape enthusiast, I've always wanted to create a "soundtrack to my life" mix. Every time I've started down that path thus far, I run into a difficult time consolidating everything down to one 80-minute CD. Even a two-disc set -- which would likely run around 40 tracks or so -- just doesn't seem 
Pilot of the Airwaves" by Charlie Dore (Original release: 1980)
A few weeks ago, Thomai prepared some fresh mangoes for dessert. She's always doing her best to make sure that the girls and I get as much healthy stuff as possible. On the night in question, I sat there at the table with the girls watching Thomai peel and cut the mangoes when a thought popped into my brain:
I was fortunate to have my BlackBerry nearby, so I used the web browser to visit Stefan Landsberger's outstanding online archive of 
It didn't take long for us to realize that we didn't want to be without a Boxer in the house. After just a few days without 
As I've noted before, one of my favorite things to do as a parent is to share interesting and unusual books with our girls at every possible opportunity. Sometimes, the results aren't terribly well received, like the time I read aloud from an old inductive logic book over dinner or the night I shared some passages from Marcuse's 
So, I started reading to Z. from the beginning of Scene Four but about halfway down the page, I realized that I had indeed come upon some subject matter that wasn't entirely age-appropriate for my young, audience. This scene featured a young soldier who was furious with his captain and was looking to exact some revenge. I stopped reading as I scanned the remainder of the page to see what I had gotten myself into and I silently read the following:
On February 23, 2009, I attended a lecture by 
I realize it might seem a little odd to embark on a tangent about a simple poster what is supposed to be an account of a speaking engagement, but there is something very important about this poster in the context of my experience in seeing Angela speak at WSU: This piece has been hanging on the wall in our library room ever since our older daughter K. was a toddler. Both K. and our younger daughter Z. have looked upon Angela’s portrait for years. They know her face and they know her name. Sure, it’s true that they are too young to really understand that much about Angela and what she stands for, but they know that she is 
After a brief wait, it was finally our chance to meet Angela. I was almost too nervous to talk as I approached her. We shook hands and I introduced Z. to her. I told her that Z. had drawn a picture for her and that Z. wanted to give it to her. I also noted that Z. had done this on her own because I didn’t want to seem like some kind of strange, overzealous parent. Z. opened the picture (she had folded it into quarters) and Angela stooped down, placing her hands on her knees to get a closer look. I told Angela, “It’s a picture of you speaking on stage.” and she softly replied, “It sure is.” She talked briefly with Z., noting the details of the picture, including the plant next to the podium and a piece of a projection camera that Z. described as “that 
